The music box tune was plinking all around us, and as Precipice and the Heartbroken hurried to stay in rough formation with the spider, I could see tracks of footprints where the snow had been pressed down, and the thin red of bodily fluids was leeching up into the compacted snow, through the slats in the road-turned-flooring.

Crimson footprints in white snow.

Snowbanks were moving, not just because they were crumpling to become misty building interior, but because they acted as suitable containers, and Nursery’s power worked by filling up containers. That included filling up living, people containers, throats, sinuses, ear canals…

Chastity had her whip out, and was using it to repel soldiers. The cracks were audible and distracting as she cleared a path for the spider to move forward. The soldiers that weren’t powered were dealing with being tugged and limited in their movements by a thousand fine pieces of thread.

The ones that were powered were the focus of Foil’s crossbow and darts. One shot aimed at a man wearing armor bands that hugged his muscular physique, with each band connected to the next with short chains. The bolt passed through armor by the ‘penetrate anything’ effect, grazed the skin, then came back into reality through use of Foil’s enhanced timing. The bolt was effectively fused to the armor it had been passing through, it retained its momentum, and it threw the man off balance. His hand touched the road, and another bolt passed through armor to secure the armor of the forearm and armor of the gauntlet to the floorboards below.

Lord of Loss shifted position on his perch. He was making himself into the heavy-hitting centaur form, but for now the four legs and one arm were spindly, drawn overlong, to the point it didn’t look like he could support himself. The arm that wasn’t formed was expanding into a shield to protect him. At the top of his head, strips were hardening into a position where they formed a crown of braided antlers.

Where one spindle-leg punched through the roof, I could see the red mist rising. Meaty squelches and growths reached up and wound around his leg, only to break away as he shifted his footing. Umbilical cord growths reached out, groping for potential targets.

I considered striking at someone else while Lord of Loss was finishing. How long did I have? Ten seconds? Twenty? How much time to get to another point on the battlefield, eliminate the biggest problem, and still be here if I was needed to protect the others?